


Dancing In My Dreams

by kingsofeverything (FullOnLarrie)



Series: Mercedes Boy [3]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Butt Plugs, Canon Compliant, Clumsy Harry, Established Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Leather Trousers, Liam isn't in the fic, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Stripping, They don't use a condom, and his voice is, bad dancing, but his song is, idk i think that's it?, in that it's headcanon compliant, just one but whatever, set in 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-04-23 17:13:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19155448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FullOnLarrie/pseuds/kingsofeverything
Summary: Louis doesn't mean to imply that Harry's too old to dance for him, but Harry takes it that way, and sets out to prove him wrong.





	Dancing In My Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> Hiiiiiiiiiii :D 
> 
> As always, thanks to [Nic](http://louandhazaf.tumblr.com) for betaing ❤ Thank you [KK](http://dinosaursmate.tumblr.com) for Brit picking ❤
> 
> This fic was inspired by [ this anonymous ask,](https://statementsue.tumblr.com/post/184595247856/i-imagined-harry-losing-his-shit-to-strip-that) so this fic is a gift for Kasia. I hope it lives up to your Harry trying-to-be-sexy-and-failing-miserably dreams! 
> 
>  
> 
> [Here's a fic post for reblogging and sharing the PWP!](https://kingsofeverything.tumblr.com/post/185517518945/dancing-in-my-dreams-by-fullonlarrie)

—

“Oh, I haven’t heard this in forever,” Harry says, turning up the volume slightly and glancing over at Louis in the passenger seat with his feet on the dash, as if Louis isn’t already looking at him singing along to his EightDs playlist. _“Do you want to ride in my Mercedes boy? Tell me what you're gonna do with me, with me, with me._ Remember?”

“Of course I remember. You bought a Mercedes so you could ride me in it and fuck me over the bonnet.”

“I… Well, I’d intended to rent it. But—”

“And you danced to this song in the red lace thing. Was unforgettable, baby.”

“Oh, yeah. I suppose it was.” Harry puckers his lips and Louis indulges him, as always. 

“We were so young then. You were what? Twenty? I was twenty-two.”

“It’s only been three years! Are you saying I’m old?” Harry gasps, holding his hand to his chest. 

“I said no such thing.” Louis rolls his eyes fondly. He rests his hand on Harry’s thigh, squeezing and patting it in a familiar gesture. “Though I’m not sure when you last danced for me.”

“It’s been a while, yeah.” Harry hums as he turns the wheel, pulling into their garage. “Last time I broke my foot.”

“You didn’t break your foot. You sprained your ankle.” Harry probably glares at him, but it’s useless when he’s still wearing sunglasses, so Louis just smiles back and changes the subject. “Did you hear Liam’s single?”

“Yeah. It’s good.” Harry pushes his sunglasses into his hair and Louis was right, he’s glaring. He climbs out of the car and Louis follows him to the door. As soon as he walks inside their house, Louis grabs Harry by the hips, pulling him back and grinding against his arse, singing ‘Strip That Down’ and punctuation each line with little thrusts. 

Their conversation is forgotten when Harry laughs and drags him up the stairs to their bedroom.

—

A few months later………………………

—

It’s been a long day and Louis hasn’t seen Harry in a _week,_ which is pretty much unheard of these days. All he wants to do is wash the aeroplane off and kiss his boyfriend. But he’s not in the pool, which is where Harry’s been every other day this week at this time, according to the pictures and videos and Snaps. Harry even FaceTimed him from the pool yesterday. 

Louis goes in through the patio door and drops his things on the floor. He’ll get them later. 

“Harold!” Louis shouts, even though he knows it’s fruitless. He checks his phone, but he hasn’t missed anything. His last text is still unread, so he calls, and hears… something. Music. And follows it through the house. When the call goes to voicemail, the music doesn’t stop. It’s definitely a song that he’ll know as soon as he can hear it properly. As he turns towards their bedroom he recognises the song. 

It’s Liam. It’s Liam’s song! Louis wiggles his hips a little to the beat as he walks down the hallway. He opens their bedroom door and finds, well, not the last thing he’d expect, but it’s up there. 

“Baby?” Louis asks, not that Harry would be able to hear him over the music. It’s like, really loud. He feels like he’s in a club or something and it takes him a second to realise that’s intentional. The room is dark too, purple light comes from the lamp on his bedside table and red light comes from the lamp on Harry’s, but no light is coming from any of the windows. An actual—likely vintage and ridiculously expensive—disco ball is hanging from the ceiling. 

Squinting into the dark, Louis thinks he sees the outline of Harry sitting in the chair in the corner. He closes the door without taking his eyes off that corner of the room, and suddenly all he can see is the bed and a few feet around it. The song ends, the music stops, and in the silence, Harry says, “Sit in the chair. You can look, but you can’t touch.”

Walking into the dark isn’t the easiest thing in the world and Louis steps carefully closer. “Baby, what are—”

“No questions.”

“Okay then I—”

“Sit down and be quiet. Please.” 

It’s the please that does it. Whatever Harry’s doing, Louis pretty much always goes along with. And that goes both ways. Like most things, they kind of share that, really. 

The music starts back up again, it’s “Strip That Down” and Louis thinks he knows where this is going. He probably would’ve caught on sooner, but he’s tired. Thankfully, he finds the chair easily in the dark. 

Harry’s still hidden in the shadows, so Louis makes himself comfortable, shucking his jumper. He drops it to the floor beside the chair and looks up, mouth actually falling open when he sees Harry step into the light. 

Over the years, Harry’s dressed up for him a number of times, but he’s always had a preference for soft fabrics and pretty lacy things, especially when they’re alone in their bedroom. There are entire drawers full of lingerie in every colour of the rainbow in all of their houses. Tonight, he’s wearing something different. 

His feet are bare, and Louis smiles, knowing that part of the reason for that is the sprained ankle he wound up with a while back when he’d attempted to dance to Selena’s “Good For You” in high heels. Lately, Harry’s taken to wearing loose joggers around the house, so seeing his long legs encased in tight black leather makes his heart beat a little faster. And when he holds onto the bedpost, twirls, and shakes his arse to the beat, Louis stares hard. 

The muscles of Harry’s back shift the thin silk of his shirt as he moves to the music and Louis bites his lower lip. He’s been practicing, it’s obvious, because Harry Styles does not have dance moves like that naturally, and there’s no way it’s a coincidence that he turns to face Louis, lip syncing to Liam’s lyrics “I used to be in 1D” with both hands pressed to either side of his zipper. Louis glances up and Harry winks. Definitely on purpose then. 

His top is one Louis has seen before, see-through black silk chiffon, with tiny buttons that always take forever to undo. Harry slides his hands up from where they were still outlining his dick in his leather trousers, untucking his shirt. He starts at the bottom, pushing the buttons through, looking up to meet Louis’ eyes when he gets to the third one. Gripping his shirttails with both hands, he pulls, stretching his arms out to his sides, popping the remaining buttons off, and leaving him bare chested with his torn shirt hanging completely open. 

Liam’s voice sings, “You know I love it when the music's loud, but c'mon, strip that down for me, baby” and Harry tweaks his nipples and swivels his hips, steadying himself with the bedpost, and dropping into a deep squat. He stands back up and spreads his legs wide, lifts his arms overhead, and does a body roll to the side, ending it with a thrust of his hips. 

In all the years they’ve known each other, Harry’s never danced like this. At least, not in front of Louis. And it’s not that it isn’t sexy. Of course it is. It’s Harry. It’s just that it’s not _typical_ Harry, so it’s a little confusing. Especially when he falls to his knees—gracefully—and somehow spins completely around _while still on his knees,_ all while slipping his shirt off his arms and throwing it over his shoulder. Harry hops back to his feet, tosses the ruined silk at Louis, and rubs the palms of his hands down his chest as he does what can only be called a backwards body roll, pistoning his leather-covered hips. 

Bending at the waist, Harry props his hands on his knees, dragging them up his thighs. He cups his cock with both hands and gives himself a squeeze and it’s in that moment that Louis realises that, despite the giggles he’s been containing, he’s hard in his joggers. But, that laughter fights Louis’ determination to hold back when Harry grips the sides of his trousers and yanks, leather parting easily along the seams, to reveal a sparkling black G-string. 

It’s not that the underwear or the dance or anything about this particular situation is _funny,_ it’s just that Louis is hard from watching him and Harry is hard in his tiny G-string, and neither of them have ever been into the sort of fast, hip pumping, cock swinging with every movement, dancing. They’ve made fun of it, they’ve done it themselves jokingly—Harry can actually get his spinning like a helicopter _while_ juggling and hula-hooping—but they’ve never taken it seriously, and Harry _is._ He’s incredibly serious. So much so that he seems unaware that Louis is chuckling in the corner. 

His entire body gleams in the reddish purple light, the reflections from the disco ball dance over his skin, which… appears to be oiled. With his hand holding onto the top of the bedpost, Harry props one foot against the side of it, and leaps into the air, successfully pulling off the same move from when he sprained his ankle. He spins around and lands on both feet, grinning proudly, and gyrating as he lowers his body along with the lyrics, “Love when you hit the ground.”

That’s when it goes tits up. Louis bites his lip hard, but despite his best efforts, a cackle escapes because Harry loses his balance and falls on his arse, erection bouncing as he clambers to get back up and trips over his tearaway leather trousers. 

Hopping out of his chair with his hands already outstretched, Louis catches Harry before he knocks himself out on the bedpost again.

“Baby!” Louis shouts over the ‘yeah, yeah, yeah’ of Liam’s outro, pulling Harry until he’s standing.

Harry shakes his head and steps backwards, shouting back, “Not finished!”

“Stop! Harry!” Hoping he doesn’t trip and fall too, Louis heads for the lightswitch, flipping it on, and ignoring Harry’s pout as he stops the music. 

“Lou!” Harry cocks his hip to the side, hands on his waist. “I’m not finished.”

“Baby, I… I’m sorry, but you’re going to get hurt. Your hands are slippery with, um, whatever you’ve oiled yourself with, and honestly, I’m surprised you didn’t bust your arse on that spin move thing.” Louis hands him the ruined silk shirt, and while Harry wipes his hands off, he asks, “What’s this about? You auditioning for the next Magic Mike film?”

Harry rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his—oiled and, apparently glitter covered—chest. “No.”

“What? Just felt like stripping for me?” Louis raises his eyebrows and looks down at the head of Harry’s dick where it’s freed itself from the—please, let them be fake—diamond encrusted G-string.

“Sort of.” Harry huffs, mumbling, “Was proving a point.”

“A point? What? That you could do that spin without injuring yourself?”

“No!” Harry plops his bum down onto their bed. “That we’re not, like, old, and that our, you know, sex lives aren’t stale or whatever.”

Louis opens his mouth to speak, then closes it, frowning and moving closer to the bed. “Stale like a couple of weeks ago, when I handcuffed you to the bed and rode your cock and wouldn’t let you come until I flipped you over and ate your arse until you cried?”

“I… No,” Harry says with a pout, and Louis steps between his legs, pushing his thighs apart.

“You mean like before you left last week when you held me up and fucked me against that one-way plate glass window that you had specially installed in the London house?”

“No. You _implied_ that I’m too old to dance for you. Or that, like, I couldn’t dance to this song. And it’s just been because I was nervous about falling again, and then I did fall again, and you laughed!”

“I wasn’t— Well, I did laugh, but not _at_ you. You’ve always laughed at that sort of dancing! I kind of thought it was a joke, baby. But…” Louis brings his hands to Harry’s hips and pulls him forward, rubbing his clothed hardon against him. 

“You’re hard? From that?” 

“From you, you dork.” Louis leans in until Harry falls backwards onto the bed, then he hooks his fingers under the thin strips of fabric stretched across his hips, and pulls his G-string off. Wrapping his hand around Harry’s cock, he says, “You too. From the dance?”

“No.” Harry shakes his head, bucking into Louis’ fist, and snorting with laughter at the same time. “Wanked to that video of you. You know the one where—”

“The football one? With the squats?” Louis laughs as he crawls over him, straddling his lap, and sitting directly on top of Harry’s cock. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Your arse looks fantastic in it!” 

“Yeah, but that was years ago. Are you saying it doesn’t look fantastic now? Are _you_ calling _me_ old?”

“No.” Harry squeezes Louis’ arse with both hands. “I just… Maybe I should take a sneaky video next time you’re warming up.”

“You do that.” Louis presses a quick kiss to Harry’s lips. “Actually, I think… I think there might be some footage from that night I was playing footie with Jordan and the lads.”

“High-quality video footage?” Harry looks like a kid on Christmas when Louis nods and pulls him down, crashing their mouths together, and bucking his hips up under Louis’ arse. “Fuck me?”

“Sure, baby. Let me…” Louis starts to reach towards the bedside table, but Harry tightens his grip on Louis’ forearms.

“Lou, if you don’t know me well enough by now, I—”

Sitting up, Louis slaps a hand over Harry’s mouth. “If you don’t know me well enough by now, I’ll remind you that I _like_ fingering you. I don’t care how well you think you prepped yourself or how big a plug you were wearing before I got here.”

Harry mumbles behind Louis’ hand, so he lifts it in order to hear him say, “Sorry.”

“It’s alright, baby.” Louis climbs off of him and leans down to lick the tip of his cock. “Turn over.”

Before he flips over onto his stomach, Harry whispers, “Love you.”

“Love you too, baby.” Louis gives his arse a light smack before getting the lube from the bedside table drawer and kicking his joggers off, slicking himself up as he settles between Harry’s legs. “Face down, arse up. That’s what you want, yeah?”

Scrambling to get his knees under him, Harry pulls a pillow to his chest, resting his temple on the sheets. The light from the red and purple bulbs in the lamps and the disco ball overhead make it feel like he’s about to fuck Harry on stage and Louis shivers. 

“You wish you could dance for me on stage, don’t you? All dressed up… God, baby.” Palming Harry’s arsecheeks with both hands, Louis squeezes and pulls them apart to find that Harry has indeed spent some time in preparation and Louis’ cock jumps at the mental image of Harry trying not to rush as he slips one finger in at a time before pushing his favourite pale pink plug inside, and wearing it as he set about readying their bedroom and getting dressed. All while thinking about what’s about to happen. “One of these days… One night when you least expect it, I’m going to get you dressed up, and take you out, and rent out an entire club. And then you’re going to strip for me.”

Harry moans and pushes back against Louis’ hands. Sliding his fingertips over Harry’s rim, Louis pushes two inside, the muscle giving way easily. 

“Yeah,” Harry says, voice rough. He reaches his hands behind him and knocks Louis’ other hand out of the way, grabbing his arsecheeks and holding himself open. 

Adding a third finger just because he wants to, Louis twists his wrist and then holds it still, watching as Harry hitches his hips back. “And then I’m going to fuck you on stage.”

Harry’s entire body trembles and he clenches down around Louis’ fingers, fucking himself on them with a whine.

“Thought you’d like that.” Curling his fingers, Louis drags them across Harry’s prostate before he pulls them free. He lines up, rubbing his cockhead in circles before pushing past the resistance and enveloping himself in Harry. While Harry keeps his arsecheeks spread apart, Louis fucks him rough and fast, sliding his hands around to the front of Harry’s thighs, digging his fingertips into his soft skin and pulling Harry back onto his cock. As deep as he can get, Louis grinds against Harry’s arse, taking a second to catch his breath while he tries not to come. He lets go of Harry’s legs, reaching for his hair instead, pulling his head up with a sharp tug on his short curls. 

“Hands and knees, baby,” Louis orders him gently and releases his hair, gripping his hips as soon as Harry moves his hands and pushes himself up. “Come when you’re ready, ’cause I’m close.”

With no further warning, Louis pulls halfway out and slams forward, punching grunts from Harry’s throat every time their skin slaps together. Shutting his eyes tight, Louis focuses on not coming before Harry does, wrapping his hand around Harry’s cock and wanking him fast, dicking in and hitting his prostate hard. Harry comes, arms giving out, and drops onto the pillow beneath him. 

Draping himself over Harry’s back, Louis pushes him down until he’s flat against the mattress, holding him still and fucking him until his own hips stutter out of control and he comes, pulsing inside Harry’s body. 

As they come down from their orgasms, Louis kisses across Harry’s shoulder blades, then he carefully pulls out and opens the nightstand drawer, looking for the pink plug. “There you are,” Louis says triumphantly, sitting back on his heels. He finds the bottle of lube and drizzles some on the plug, getting it wet before pushing it past Harry’s rim. 

Harry groans and lifts his arse to meet Louis’ hand, then turns and looks back over his shoulder. “I think I’m too old for pole dancing.”

With a snort, Louis falls onto the bed beside him. “Says you, but I think I might give it a go. Get whoever taught you to teach me.”

Harry laughs and scoots closer, burying his face in Louis’ chest. “You’ll be brilliant. But just for me. Not in a club or anything.”

“No, definitely not.” Louis presses a kiss to the top of Harry’s head. “Might get a pole installed though.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
